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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
in 2011 witii funding from 
Tlie Library of Congress 



http://www.arGhive.org/details/grandfathergreyOOwood 



A COMPANION TO GRANDMOTHER GREY 



Grandfather Grey 



BY 



KATE TANNATT WOODS 



llluitpated 



BOSTON A"^^'cOPYrS^?N "N 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS AUG "^ '^ '"" 



X E W Y O R K 

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 

1892 



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SHINGTOV*' 



Copyright, 1S91 
Bv LEE AND SHEPARD 



All rights reserved 



Grandfather Grey 



BOSTON 








GRANDFATHER GREY 



BY MRS. KATE TANNATT WOODS. 

Grandfather dwelt in Ids son's grand liome, 

With servants in livery fine ; 
And Grandfather sat at liis son's grand board, 

And tasted his rare old wine. 



His easy-chair was of softest plush, 
His footstool of blue and gold ; 

And the fire burned low in a costly grate. 
While he thought of the days of old. 




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He sighed and sighed, like a weary chihl, 
As he thought of the days of yore ; 

And his son, looking in, said, " Father sleeps 
Like one who has passed fourscore." 



" Sleep," — aye, he dreamed of 3-nuth again, 

Of his first fair love in school. 
Of the old church choir and high-backed pews. 

And the parson's Golden Ivide. 



He saw little Huldah, plump and fair, 

With his rival sitting near ; 
And he heai'd her voice, her gii'lish voice 

Ivinn' out full loud and clear. 



He saw the bass-viol " up in the seats," 

Tlie girls in their dresses gay, 
And the hoys in their weskits spic-and-span. 

Dressed up for the Sabbath day. 



Hark ! they were singing " Okl Zion " again ; 

And the "mountain tops" might well appear, 
For Grandpa stood on the heights of love. 

With Huldah sineincr so near. 



" Glorious conflict, glorious conflict," 

She sang as never before ; 
While the people stared from the pews below, 

On the dear ohl meeting-house floor. 




Over the pulpit grand and high 
The music went floating away, 

While the gray-haired parson softly prayed 
For his brave young choir that day. 

What matter a rival more or less, 

With Huldah smiling so ? 
Her kerchief over her bosom })inned, 

As white as the driven snow. 

Wliat mattered the shriek of the viol now, 
Or the squire's frown in his pew? — 

Grandpa was singing the sweetest song 
Of love so old, yet new. 




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At last noon came, and meeting let out, 
While the boys passed on before, 

To watch the girls like fluttering doves. 
As they came from the old church dooi. 



In the old red sheds the deacons found 
Their horses longing to try 

The nibble of hay or measure of oath 
Hidden under the seat hard by 








Oh, that nooning hour of the long ago, 
With its mystic charm for all, 

From the awkward lad to the city girl, 
And the horse in its open stall. 

Oh, the dainty charm of a stroll with one 

So near, and yet so far, 
Till the bell tolled out the nooning done. 

And the pew-doors stood ajar. 




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Oh, the clang and the bang of the sheep-pen pews. 

As the seats went up and. down, 
And the shy, shy looks of the country lads 

At the pretty girls from town. 



Oh, that sounding-board with its Iieavy frown. 

Hanging over that head so gray. 
And the sleepy child in the corner pew, 

And the deacons wlio dozed away ; 



And the old bead bag on mother's arm, 
With its sprigs of fennel and mint, 

And the red bandanna the chorister used, 
To give his singers a hint ; 




And the open window, with hum of bees 
Surpassing the trills of the choir, 

While the notes of " Antioch " floated aloft. 
And the viol and treble soared higher. 



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Oh, the sweet, soft oih)i" of new-mown hay 

Which wafted in that day 
From the bnrying-gronnd behind the church, 

Where Grandfather's ancestors hxy. 





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The meeting-house faded from Grandpa's sight. 
And he stood in the school-house red, 

In a goodly class of boys and girls, 
With Hiildah up at the head. 




Again he saw the old spelling-school, 
Where " taters " the candlesticks made ; 

And the flickering light on the roughened walls 
Made pictures never to fade. 



And Huldah, his darling, spelled them all down. 
Even Ben, the Squire's young son. 

And the gay young man who came from town 
" To see how the thino' was done." 





Then Grandpa went home with Huldah that night; 

Fair girl, with her eyes so blue. 
Half hid by the i)uffs of her " punkin liood," 

Which covered her blushes, too. 



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He sat once more by the 02:)en fire, 

When the old folks went to bed ; 
He knew that he loved her through and tlirough. 

But couldn't tell what he said. 

He saw her again at the apple-bee, 

At the husking, at making ha}' ; 
He only knew that lie loved but her, 

And should, to his dving da v. 








Tlien came the wedding, simple and gay, 
With the parson to tie the knot, 

And a wedding gift from Hukhih's pa 
Of a strip of the " medder lot." 



And there was the house, so snug and warm, 

Fit nest for loving birds. 
With Huldah moving softly about, 

Saying such tender words. 




Oh, the old buck oven, where Huldali baked 

Hei pies to the sunniest brown. 
And the spit where the turkeys grew so crisp, 

And she m her homespun gown. 

Then the stiange, sad time, — could he ever forget ?- 

When his darhng was pale and still, 
And ^omifhnx/ within a cradle of wood 

Ga\e his heart such a strange, new thrill. 



Yes. there she sat now. with her babe on her arm 

His Huldah. his boy, all his own ; 
And suddenly, somehow, the vision changed, 

And the boy had older grown. 

Then his heart ached sore, for the boy was dead : 

And Huldah, weighted with woe. 
Wei^t there by her baby's still, white face. 

Her tirst-bom, " Oh, why must he go ? " 

They bore him away, her little chUd, 
With his ringlets of golden hair. 

And ever more to the mother's eyes 
The world held a vacant chair. 





And ever more, on the mother's face, 
A strange new sweetness would stay, 

For none of the children that came could be 
Like tlie one God called away. 

The brown-gold locks of Huldah grew 
To white, with the fleeting years ; 

And joy and sorrow came to both, 
And smiles Avere followed by tears, 



Then Grandfather thought he held her hand 

Once more witliin his own, — 
The hand of his Huldah, here, or there. 

Before the eternal throne. 




He spoke of his thoughts to his son that night. 

With his fine face all aglow, 
And he added, " Put me by mother, lad. 

When I am called to go. 




" I shall never see the old church again, 
Or hear again the old choir ; 

The viol is now a thing of the jjast, 
And the deacons have gone up hioher. 



" The old church wears now a city look, 

Tlie horse-sheds are all laid low. 
And the sheep-pen pews have vanislied, too, — 

It is time for me to go. 




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'' Yet I loved them all, 1 love tbem now, 
Tliey bring your mother so near ; 

As I sit and think in tlie firelight glow, 
The past seems verj^ clear. 



"• Perhaps the times are better now. 

I don't feel called to say 
If the world is growing better or not 

But I'm glad I've seen this day. 



'• The wonders are most too much for me. 

When you talk for miles away, 
x\nd send your messages round the world. 

Yes, I'm glad I've seen this day. 

" Perhaps, when I come to see mother again, 

It will all be strange to her ; 
Mebbe she'll never know I am deaf,. 

Or how my old eyes blur. 

" I think I hear your mother speak ; 

Good-night, my boy, good-night." 
With a sigh, like a gentle zephyr's breath. 

His gentle spirit took flight. 





They laid him close by his Huldah's side, 
And there you may see to-day, 

111 that old churchyard beneath tlie trees, 
The name of Grandfather Grey. 



The bees hum still, as they did of old, 
The birds and tlie flowers are the same. 

And the odor of new-mown hay creeps in 
To the church with another name. 



Still, fair little children come and go. 
And maidens, and lovers tall ; 

For the world moves on as it ever moved, 
And the dear God loveth all. 



